


That’s What Friends Are For

by the_butler



Series: This Road to Hell [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Green Lantern - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types, The Flash - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Past Barry Allen/Iris West, Past Clark Kent/Lois Lane, Past Hal Jordan/Carol Ferris - Freeform, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-14 01:21:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18042758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_butler/pseuds/the_butler
Summary: Was it shitty for him to commiserate with his bestest best friend while inwardly rejoicing? Yup. Definitely top five shitty things to do as a human person.





	1. Breakfast Burrito of Unhappiness

**Author's Note:**

> I thought the story was done, but it kept coming back to me (meaning my first posted fic here: “It’s Nice To Know You’re Not Alone In Hell”). I’m also trying to get out of my comfort zone by trying to write scenes I don’t usually, so please bear with me.

He was breathless- he had never seen his friend look like this before. Hair tousled, brow furrowed in delicious torment, mouth slack and lips bruised by kisses. A hickey was forming by the pulse of his neck, and strewn here and there on his chest were love bites. Hal could hardly believe his luck. Hell, he could hardly believe it was him that got to do all that. 

“Hal,” Barry almost whined, “don’t stop.” And he closed his eyes, “please.”

And that’s all it took, really, for Hal to completely lose himself. To give in to the dark voice in his head that would not stop whispering “mine mine mine”. He grabs Barry below the knees and roughly pulls towards himself. Barry moans, and it almost takes Hal to the edge, but not yet. He can’t, he’s got so many other things he wants to try and Barry looks oh so willing. 

“Barry,” Hal croons, and the blond man blinks his eyes open. “There he is. Stay with me babe.”

“Hal... it feels so good it hurts.”

“Where does it hurt?”

Barry lets out another moan as he cants his hips upwards. Hal licks his lips. “I’m gonna make it all better baby, don’t you worry.”

Barry gives him a shy smile, and wasn’t that just the fucking best, he’s been moaning and wanting all this time and still smiles that little shy smile of his, the tease, and this is going to be the best night of their life, Hal was willing to bet. He reaches in between them and blaaaaargh blaaaaargh blaaaaaaargh

Just as it was getting good, his alarm goes off.

Goddamnit, he thought as he opens his eyes, reaching out for his phone irritably to turn off the alarm and then to chuck it to wherever, even in dreams he had no fuckin’ luck. He groans into the pillow and mutters a few curses before turning his body right side up. Where was he again? Oh shit, yeah, at Barry’s apartment. Fuck. On his... sofa? Yeah, sofa. So this morning wood will just have to be willed away. Good thing he had a lot of will, eh? Sheesh. He wearily sits up, already bone tired when he just literally woke up. This is going to be one of those days. 

“Bar?” He ventures, looking around to see the many bottles they had gone through just the night before. Barry had fast metabolism, but Hal was a soldier and could drink anyone under the table once upon a time. What was it again? Oh, yeah. The breakup. He smiled darkly. Was it shitty for him to commiserate with his bestest best friend while inwardly rejoicing? Yup. Definitely top five shitty things to do as a human person. God. Why was he even a Lantern when he was such a shitty person? Oa knows, probably. Even Lanterns need shitty dudes who outwardly support their best friends in their down time while at the same time secretly lust after them. He is the literal worst. But tell him something he doesn’t know, right? Right. He scrubs his face with a hand. Fuckin’ first thing when he gets up is of course beat himself up for being garbage. Why were they friends again?

“Bar?” He calls out again, standing up and willing away the negative thoughts that if he’s gonna be honest is on a constant loop in his head. Most days he can hardly hear them, but this seems to be a white knuckle kind of day, in more ways than one. He navigates his way through the empty beer bottles on the floor and ducks a bit to see if there were anyone in the kitchen. Nope. Bedroom it is then. 

“Bar-bear?” He knocks twice on the door as he opens it slowly. He opens it wide when he sees no on was on the bed. Hmm, no sound of activity in the en suite either. His brow wrinkled as he tried to remember what happened last night before he blacked out on the couch. Can’t seem to remember much, but for sure Barry was with him in his own apartment. He backs out of the bedroom in time to hear the front door open. 

“That you, Bar?” He asks, and was greeted with a... flinch? It was the barest of movement but he could swear that was a flinch. And Barry wasn’t looking him in the eye. Oh. Oh no. What happened last night?

“Uh, hey there guy.” Barry awkwardly answers as he maneuvers himself into room with both hands occupied and closing the door with his foot. He still wouldn’t meet Hal’s eyes and instead heads to the kitchen counter to put down the bags he was carrying- which turned out to be lunch. 

“Hey yourself. Why didn’t you wake me up? Could’ve gone with you on that food run.” Hal says with a bit of caution. Barry seemed to be avoiding him. What did happen last night? Between the dream and the black dog, he had forgotten to take stock of whatever it was he did or say that got Barry shifting uneasily at his presence. 

“It’s okay, it’s just Alberto’s.”

“Sweet! Ya got me...” And Barry tossed a cylinder shaped wrapped item towards him, which he caught deftly. 

“Breakfast Burrito, as always.” 

“You know me so well Bar-bear.” 

And there, again, a subtle kind of flinch- this time a twitch of the eye, as if Barry was forcing himself to not cringe. 

“Hey.” Hal starts, walking towards the kitchen. Barry still hasn’t looked up from the bags of food, busying himself, but says a ‘hmm?’ in response. A flicker of irritation goes through Hal, something he doesn’t usually feel in the presence of Barry. He gets as close as he can as possible and then leans back on the counter, their elbows almost touching. “What’s up with you today?”

Barry stops and looks down. He braces his hands on the counter, closes his eyes and breathes out before opening them again and turning his head to look at Hal. 

“You... you don’t remember last night do you?”

Oh. Oh shit. A ball of lead just landed in the pit of Hal’s stomach. What did happen last night? They had some beer, well, a lot of beer, Barry had kind of cried at one point, a lot of talk about breakups and feelings... by the end they were talking about nonsense and laughing and... that’s it? Right?

“I... should I have remembered something important?”

Barry’s eyes narrowed. Shit, okay so he should’ve remembered something important. Only what was it?

“Listen, I was really drunk last night, and I think I still am to be honest, because I don’t have a throbbing headache yet.”

He tried to look as apologetically as possible with a breakfast burrito in hand. Barry looked away, sighed, and then turned his whole body to face Hal, folding his arms on his chest as he did so. He also looked kind of pissed.

“Oh, so you don’t remember the part where you, drunk as you claim, just proclaim your love for me and then sloppily kiss me full on the mouth before blacking out on my couch?”

Jesus H. Christ on a stick.

That sobered him up real quick, which was unfortunate, because now his head started throbbing. Oh great. Now he gets the hangover.


	2. An Italian Burger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I get it! I get it. No need to list out all my misdeeds, Santa Claus.”

Did he actually do those things? He wouldn’t betray his own self, would he? But then again, it was drunk him. And drunk him is a verified asshole. There was that time in high school with Vanessa (brutal breakup), and then Johnny (almost got them kicked out of the Air Force), and then Carol (let’s be honest, there’s too many instances with Carol to even start counting now), and of course Bruce (that’s how it all started)... and now Barry. Shit. He could say that Hal went buck naked streaking in the park with a carrot up his ass and Hal would very well be inclined to believe him given his past actions under the influence. Memo to self- stop fucking drinking. Again. But did he actually went and fuck himself over like that? He came to himself and saw the expression on Barry’s face- a mixture of disappointment, anger, sadness... he can’t. He can’t look at that face and see that expression of... of pity. Something gripped his heart and squeezed so hard he almost choked audibly. Vise, meet lead ball in the pit of stomach. He smiled a shit-eating grin.

“Uh. Suprise, I’m actually bi?”

Barry snorted- to Hal’s surprise. “What, you think I don’t know? Hal, I’m not blind, I see how you stare at some guys.” And here Hal started praying that Barry shut up with no such luck. “I am also not deaf- I hear the way you talk about Bruce Wayne. And you called Superman...”

Hal held up a hand. “I get it! I get it. No need to list out all my misdeeds, Santa Claus.”

“All I’m saying is I know. And I’m not judging, except for how gross you sometimes get about it like they’re pieces of meat,” Hal visibly winces- he did do it to get a rise out of Batman, but he should’ve known how it would be perceived by the others, heavens know what even Wonder Woman thinks of him, a worm probably, “and did it hurt that you still didn’t tell me about it, come out to me so to speak? Yeah. But I figured everyone has their own timeline, and that maybe you knew that I knew so you thought there’s no need.”

Barry shifted weight between his feet a few times, and then sighed. 

“But last night...”

“Was crazy. Crazy drunk shit from me.” Hal intercut, serious as a wake, “I’ve told you about shenanigans I got into when I get drunk, right? Last night was more of the same. I’m sorry it happened to you, but shit happens. You shouldn’t worry about it, if I were you.”

Hal turned around, remembered he was still holding a goddamn breakfast burrito, and made a beeline towards the window by the fire exit. Barry was still taken aback, and that could be the only reason why the fastest man alive wasn’t fast enough to stop Hal’s cowardly exit. And oh, was it cowardly. He just jumped out the window and the fire exit ladder and didn’t even try to make his construct something fun or stupid (his usual MO) and still with a breakfast burrito in hand. He tried to put it into his jacket, remembered he left it at Barry’s apartment along with his phone and goddamnit his keys, and he cursed a blue streak as he streaked a green light across the sky. And it wasn’t even noon yet. 

*

He was nice. Too nice, Bruce thought, as he watched with an impassive face the scene unfolding before him. Lunch was usually at diners, but today he thought he would switch things up and invited Clark to dine with him at a restaurant of his choosing. Of course it couldn’t be too fancy, nor could it be another diner, so somewhere mid-tier that was, most importantly, discreet. He settled on a newly opened Italian bistro across the city from the Daily Planet building, so he could avoid the usual journalist joints, and if the restaurant happened to be owned by Wayne Corp, well what can he do? It was a giant conglomerate and he couldn’t be bothered to learn each and every subsidiary and off shoot (this is a lie: of course he did). Alfred had taken care of everything, as usual, from reservation to informing the owner who in turn alerted his current staff and had the restaurant shut down just for Mr. Wayne. About the only one who wasn’t informed, probably, was the young waitress who was starstruck that she couldn’t get her opening spiel right. Clark, ever the helpful boy scout, took to chatting with her to calm her nerves somewhat. 

Such a nice guy, thought Bruce, and the thought dripped with vitriol. But against who? The twenty something waitress who couldn’t believe she was face to face with *the* Bruce Wayne? Or his dining companion who was only doing his best be an actual good person? Bruce held in a sigh and dug deep into his Brucie persona, laid on the charm so thick you can cut it with a knife, so much so that Clark gave him a wry smile on the side as the waitress he’d been trying to calm down straight up stared at Bruce. He only had Clark to himself for less than an hour, and now most of it is being taken up by ineptitude. 

“Do you think you can get us something to drink first, sweetheart?” And he smiled, or at least Brucie did. Across him, Clark almost frowned. When the waitress finally got herself together and took their orders and left, Bruce raised an eyebrow at his friend. “What? You never call anybody sweetheart?”

Clark just shook his head and glanced around. “Did you shut this place down for our lunch or what?”

Bruce shrugged in reply. “It’s a new place, probably doesn’t have that much clientele built up yet.”

“Yeah, probably.” And there was only a smidgen of sarcasm in Clark’s tone. He was, after all, too nice to suspect his friend would get in the way of a place of business earning money just so they could be all alone. Anyway, billionaires probably did this all the time right? 

Their drinks and entrees came in with a different server, and isn’t that a relief. Bruce was having a salad and Clark somehow, in an Italian bistro, got something that looked like a plate of burger and fries. 

“So how’s everything on your side of the river?” Clark started, as he grabbed a fry and munched on it.

Hm, small talk. Bruce hardly endured it but for family and Clark. “Gotham is still Gotham. Corrupt...”

“That’s not what I meant. I mean you, the family, Alfred.”

“Oh, please do excuse me.” Bruce said with excessive politeness, and Clark rolled his eyes. “Alfred is well. He sends his regards. I am as you see still alive. Currently having lunch with you.” He spears a tomato with his fork. “The... family... is the same.”

“You mean Dick is still hiding away in Blüdhaven, Jason is still not in contact, and Tim is starting to chafe under your authority?”

Bruce looked up at Clark sharply, but the other was the picture of innocence as he bit into his burger. “Bulls-eye?” Clark tried saying through a mouthful of burger. It would have been disgusting if it weren’t so endearing, thought Bruce, and he shivered at his own sappiness. He pursed his lips instead. 

“Says the man who’s never raised a single child.”

“Ah,” Clark starts, wiping his lips on the cloth napkin, “you’re starting to sound like Lois.”

Oh, here it is. The daily reminder of why he can’t have nice things. Or nice men. Or just one nice man. Bruce looked down at his salad to keep himself from rolling his eyes. 

“Speaking off, it came in this morning.”

“What did?”

“Our divorce papers. Signed it and handed it off to her at the bullpen. Gotta say, I feel the same as I did yesterday. Which is normal. Lois said the same thing.” Clark smiled. “We should’ve gotten divorced years ago, but we both were too busy to do anything about it.” And here the smile turned a bit sad. “We’re still friends, at least. Can’t say the same for other divorced co-workers.”

Bruce calmly ate his salad, betraying none of his inner turmoil. He chewed slowly and swallowed, as if his heart wasn’t a jackhammer. “Is that so?” He managed to say with the least amount of interest. Clark gave him a look. 

“You don’t have to bust my balls about it.”

Oh dear. The phrasing. Bruce almost choked on a piece of lettuce. 

“Well, I’m glad the two of you figured it out.”

Clark smiled again. Bruce failed to notice the look in his eyes. 

“Yeah. Yeah, so am I.”


	3. Chicken Sandwich of Regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She closed her eyes and offered up a silent prayer to a god who looked after overworked vice presidents with idiot ex-boyfriends.

Carol Ferris is the vice president of Ferris Aircrafts and as such didn’t have any kind of time for ex-boyfriends furiously tapping on her office window, gesturing to be let in with what appears to be... a burrito in one hand? She closed her eyes and offered up a silent prayer to a god who looked after overworked vice presidents with idiot ex-boyfriends. As she got up she threw away the half of a chicken sandwich she was having for lunch to the trash bin by her desk and opened the window. A sheepish Hal Jordan in nothing more than casual clothes but a full mask construct flew in. A burrito was deposited on her desk. 

“Is that supposed to be for me?” She asked, eyebrow arched. 

“What?” Hal responds distractedly as the mask construct disappeared and turned into pure green energy that went back into the ring. 

“That... burrito, I’m guessing? Did you fly here just to give me that?”

“What?” Hal repeated, stupidly, until it dawned on him. “Oh! No no no. That was... I wouldn’t eat that. I’ve flown across continental US with that in my hand and it’s probably frozen solid by now.”

“You didn’t think to make an insulated to-go bag for it?” Carol asked sarcastically. When Hal failed to reply with an equally sarcastic “ha ha” as was wont, she continued, “why are you here then?”

Hal looked around the office, saw the sofa, and gratefully threw himself on it. He closed his eyes and appeared to be ignoring Carol in her own goddamn office. The nerve. But of course, this is classic Hal. No wonder they broke up. 

“I don’t like repeating myself, Jordan.”

“Carol, baby, please.” Hal pleaded while pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can’t really explain it right now but do you have some Advil? I have the biggest hangover...”

Oh, here we go. Of course he has a hangover. Carol rolls her eyes but still went to her desk to open the drawer with the medicine. Grabbing her bottled water she goes over Hal and throws both on his lap, not caring if it hurt him or not. 

“There. Now if you don’t need anything else...”

Hal holds up a finger while downing two Advils and chasing it with water. As he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, he throws her back the now half-empty bottled water, which she deftly caught with one hand. “Thanks doll. Actually, I kinda need something from you.”

“I already gave you back your job for the nth time...” she started, but Hal interrupted her with another held up finger. 

“Nothing as dire as that. I just, do you still have my spare key? I seem to have lost it...”

“Oh you mean you left it at my place, with your jacket and your phone, before flying off like an idiot?”

Both Carol and Hal started at the new voice in the conversation, and while Carol quickly turned to irritation, Hal turned to a feeling he doesn’t usually get- fear. There, at the open door, was Barry Allen. Right on cue, Carol’s intercom turns on and her secretary’s voice comes in “I’m sorry Miss Ferris but he just ignored me and went straight to your office, a Mr. Allen to see you. I did tell him you were having lunch but again he just got past me.”

Carol mentally cursed. She really had to rethink her open door policy, but when she announced that in the office she didn’t think superheroes were going to get into that action. The two men, however, were not paying her attention. They were too absorbed in whatever it was that was happening between them. Men! Carol cursed in her head some more. 

“Hello, Barry, haven’t seen you in a while.” She cuts in, her words like knife through the sudden atmosphere in the room. Barry, for his part, looked a bit apologetic. “Hey, Carol. Sorry to barge in like this. I’m here to get this idiot out of your hair, if you don’t mind.” He turns his head and glares at Hal again, who kind of squirmed under it.

Curious, but sure that she would not get any kind of answer that satisfied her, Carol sits on the edge of her desk and gestures towards Hal. “Please, by all means.”

Barry moved in and threw Hal’s jacket toward the man, who kind of just caught it with his face. Still not meeting anyone’s eyes, Hal checks the jacket pockets for his phone and keys, and breaths a sigh of relief to find them there. The relief was only for a few seconds though, as Barry walked towards him. 

“You still owe me an explanation, Hal.” 

“Yes, but before that...” Hal stood up, sprinted towards the still open window and jumped out, jacket in hand. The sheer weirdness of it had Carol and Barry rooted on the spot, until Barry snapped out of it. 

“Damn it, not again Hal!” He bellowed, and in a blink he was gone. 

Carol blinked once, twice, and then stood up, got behind her desk and sat down. Her eye caught the burrito. She picked up a pen and prodded at it, and sure enough it was hard. Her gaze shifted to the half of a chicken sandwich in the trash bin, and she was filled with instant regret. She pushed a button on the intercom, waited for a reply from her secretary, and then spoke.

“Jenny, can you get me another sandwich please? Oh wait no. Make that a burrito. Yes, from the Alberto’s down the street. Thank you.”

She leaned back in her chair. Well. That’s the rest of the day shot to hell. Superheroes can be so dramatic sometimes. Later, as she was munching on the carne asada burrito Jenny got her, she mused whether anything that happened had anything to do with Hal’s crippling crush on his best friend. Probably, but hey, that’s no longer any of her business. And thank goodness for that, right?

*

Barry crossed his arms and leaned back on the apartment door. Boy, Hal sure must be out of it if he thought he could outfly the fastest man in the world, even if he did get a head start with that stupid window stunt of his. He waited for a few moments, and in those moments gathered his thoughts. Last night... was a surprise. He knew Hal was bisexual, and the man certainly was very affectionate, but it wasn’t just with him was it? He’s a charming man, that Hal Jordan. And flyboys like him have a certain way of drawing you in. Barry bit the inside of his lip and glared at the floor. That doesn’t mean he gets to do that, though. What was the man thinking? And then flying away with nary an explanation beyond “ha ha sorry I was drunk”? He deserves more than that. How long have they been friends? Footsteps down the corridor took him out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see Hal who immediately spotted him and turned around without breaking his stride, a green light starting to cover the whole of his body.

“Oh no you don’t...” Barry started, but Hal had already took to flight and shot out like a comet out of the balcony on the second floor corridor. What the hell was his super-speed for if he’s just going to stand around like a dolt every time he sees Hal? He speeds to the balcony only to see a fast green streak across the sky, and he lets out a frustrated groan. Sure he can run, but aside from Carol’s office, Hal’s apartment, and his own, he didn’t really know where else Hal goes for refuge. 

He walked back to the apartment and fished out his keys from his pocket. Hal must’ve forgotten he also gave Barry a spare key. He opened the door and sees probably the saddest studio apartment he’s seen- near empty save for a pull-out couch, a table and two chairs and some boxes. Good thing the apartment had a furnished kitchen, he mused, else Hal would probably not bother with buying a stove and a fridge. He opened the fridge and saw... well what was he expecting to see? A days old carton of Chinese takeout, three bottles of beer and nothing else. Jesus. He knew Hal’s intergalactic job meant he’s away for months at a time but to live like this... Barry sighed. He rummaged around the kitchen cabinets and was equally disappointed to find almost nothing. 

What now? He thought, as he took out his phone to find a nearest Alberto’s. What with the cross country chase, he didn’t have time to have his lunch, which he thankfully put away in his fridge back at his apartment. Or maybe Chinese? Or he could just buy some groceries and cook himself something, so he had something to do as he waited out Hal. He had to come back to his own apartment eventually, right? Good thing he took a few days off his day job- he had expected to be wallowing in misery after the breakup and used up some of his leave to get his head on straight. What he wasn’t expecting was running after his best friend all over America just to have a decent conversation. Oh, the breakup. So, this whole runaround was distracting him from last night’s incident which in turn distracted him from his own breakup. Huh. He looked at his phone again, and pulled up the messaging app. Hal was right on top, they had been texting previously about having a boys night out just to get his mind of being heartbroken. 

‘I just want to talk. Please stop being stubborn.’

The message sent, and Barry sighed. Now, all he can do was wait.


	4. Coffee of Subterfuge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What is it that you want, Bruce? Really want?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter that changed the rating to mature.

He didn’t know how they got here- him pushed back on a wall, Clark licking at the pulse in his neck with enthusiasm. Well, okay, that was a lie- he knew how they got here. They took his car. He drove them here himself. But why again? Bruce had a near-photogenic memory, and he’s having a hard time remembering. Anyone would if they had Superman’s hands kneading their ass like that. 

“Clark,” he manages to say, and Clark chose that moment to grind his hard-on onto Bruce’s, and then that’s all he managed to say. He’s pretty sure “hngrgh” is not a word. Clark moved on to sucking at his pulse, and he imagines the resulting bruise to be something to behold. On his part, he couldn’t stop his hands from running up and down Clark’s sides, feeling the perfect muscles hidden beneath frumpy clothing. Clark kept up a slow, delicious tempo to his grinding, and Bruce was tempted to grab ahold of Clark’s hips to speed it up, but the hands on is ass anchored him in position. It seems Clark was two steps ahead of him. And here he thought he was being suave with lunch. 

Oh yes, lunch. It ended with a request from Clark- somewhere private to have coffee. He had said he didn’t feel like going back to the bullpen yet, what with the divorce with Lois. Yes, they were normal about it, no scene was made, no angry recriminations, but he would like a breather before going back all the same. And Bruce felt his heart twist a little with Clark’s small smile. He had the best of intentions when he suggested his penthouse at the Metropolis hotel Wayne Corp. owned. He would even make the coffee- black for himself and positively diabetic for Clark, he joked. And Clark looked so relieved and smiled wider and said, “I would love that” and his heart kind of skipped a beat didn’t it. And then they got to the penthouse and first thing he knew was he was being shoved into a wall and kissed senseless. Not that he minded- he certainly kissed back. Rejoiced inwardly, even. He just wasn’t expecting this series of events, this fast. That’s why he needed to talk first, right, if only Clark would stop doing what he was doing but also please don’t ever stop, gods, never ever. 

It was at this thought that his cellphone started vibrating in his jacket pocket. 

“Ignore it.” Clark commanded, as he moved up to kissing along Bruce’s jaw. And he was so, so inclined to follow. But he couldn’t, could he? He managed to say out loud, “Can’t.”

Clark paused in his ministrations, and Bruce immediately regretted it, but at the same time was glad for a moment to get himself together, such as it were. “This is my personal number. It might be...”

“Important.” Clark finished for him. A beat, and he moved back enough for Bruce to reach into his pocket to get the cellphone. There on the screen was the name ‘Jordan’. Bruce mentally cursed himself. Clark cocked an eyebrow and asked, “He has your personal number?”

Bruce disentangled himself and moved away instead of answering Clark. He walked towards the balcony and then turned to Clark again, “Do you mind?”

Clark shrugged, and then walked towards the bedroom. Bruce watched him go, and noted the hard-on had not gone away. He instinctively licked his lips. When he saw the door close, he then stepped out on the balcony and slid the glass door shut. Only then did he answer the phone. 

“What do you want?”

*

Yikes, Bruce did not sound happy. “Hey yourself, Spooky. I wake you up or something?” 

Hal was currently sitting on the ledge of the Wayne Corp. building, probably setting off some kind of alarm if he knew Bruce. He was answered with just a grunt. Hal scrubbed his face with his free hand. This was really one of those days. 

“Listen, I’m in Gotham. Was wondering if I can crash at the usual place? I just... I just need a place to be for a while. Have a bad case of hangover...”

“What’s wrong with your apartment.”

“... yeah ok I can’t be there right now? Just... please? Just this once don’t be such a hard ass?”

He knew he wasn’t currying any favors but the advil should’ve been kicking in but it didn’t seem to have and he hadn’t had anything inside of him and he’d been flying here and there and he felt like shit. 

“Bruce please.”

“I,” and there was a little hesitancy there that Hal failed to pick up, “I’m at Metropolis right now.”

“Oh, why?”

“I had lunch with Clark.”

It took a moment for it to register but when it did Hal slapped a hand to his forehead. “Oooh yeah... your “lunches” with Clark. Is it that time of the month already? Well, are you guys done?”

“Yes.”

“Sweet. You got that penthouse at the Hotel Ventura in downtown Metropolis, right? Of course you do, we’ve been there several times already. And when I say we’ve been there, I mean we’ve done the nasty...”

“Yes, yes I know what you meant.”

“All right, then see you in a bit.”

And he hung up, not waiting for any reply from the other end of the line. He couldn’t help but get cheeky there a bit, after all that’s what Bruce expected of him. He liked to think that’s what Bruce even liked about him. He thought about dropping down an alley and walking to a convenience store for some kind of power drink, but he figures Bruce has everything at the Metropolis penthouse. He vaguely remembers Bruce stocked some of his favorite ‘blue colored junk drinks’ after the first time they got to use the space. He smiled a broad grin. Finally, things seemed to be going his way. 

*

Damn Jordan and his impeccable sense of timing, as always, thought Bruce sarcastically. He scowled in irritation, pocketed the phone and scanned the horizon. Jordan was in Gotham, which means he had just a few minutes to get Clark out of the penthouse. He wanted to stomp and cry in frustration, but kept himself. He was still Bruce Wayne after all. It wouldn’t do to have the goddamn Batman throwing a tantrum. He adjusted his coat, swept a hand through his hair, and took a deep breath. Then he went inside and made a beeline to the bedroom where he expected Clark was waiting. His scowl deepened. There’s gonna be hell to pay. 

He opened the door and there was Clark, on the bed, lounging with a lazy smile on his face. He had his hands behind his head and his legs invitingly open. He even opened a few buttons on his plaid shirt, and Bruce cursed Jordan in his head some more. Clark noted his disposition, and cheerfully asked, “trouble in paradise?”

“What... what do you mean?”

“Oh come on, Bruce. I’m not an idiot. ‘Hal and I are just friends, just like you and I are friends’.” Clark repeated his words from a past lunch conversation, donning a serious look for a moment. “That’s what you said. But Bruce,” and here he smiled again, “we’re not just friends are we? And neither are you and Hal.”

Bruce said nothing, and remained unmoving by the door, afraid to move closer lest he does something stupid. Clark’s smile turned into a smirk. 

“What is it that you want, Bruce? Really want?”

“I...” and he was at a loss for words. What he wanted, what really wanted, was to cross the room and kiss that smirk off of Clark’s face. To rip open all the way that half open plaid shirt and touch and trace the skin down to the belted slacks, open them, kneel before Clark and take him in his mouth, all of it down to the root. To satisfy himself on the noises Clark would surely make, to feel the slight pain when Clark grabs his hair and holds his head in place while he fucks Bruce’s mouth. To snake a hand to his own and jack himself off to completion in time as Clark shoots his cum down his throat, and there’d be too much, far too much and he’d catch some on his face as Clark marks him. To hear Clark say ‘mine’ before being savagely kissed, tasting his own spend in Bruce’s mouth. And then... more. He wanted so much more. 

He didn’t notice Clark had gotten up and walked towards him until he felt the hand touch his face, and he came to, his eyes coming back to focus. Clark chuckled. 

“I can only imagine where your head went.”

“Hal and I...”

“He’ll be here in...” and here Clark turned his head and squinted a bit. “Five minutes. Guess I better be heading out.”

“Clark...”

“Or I could just wait in the bedroom while you break up with him on the balcony.”

“What?” Bruce’s eyebrows furrowed. Clark chuckled again. 

“I’m not as nice as you think.” 

Gods, Bruce thought. It wasn’t as if him and Hal were exclusive. They both knew this. But... Clark had made his choice. And it’s only fair that Bruce make his too. 

“Wait for me here. Don’t listen in.”

Clark smirked and gave him a wink before turning back. “Anything you say, babe.”

It wasn’t as if Clark could see him, but he still shot the other man a look. “Don’t call me babe.” Clark just laughed and got back in bed. Bruce gave him a last look before stepping back and closing the door. 

He really need that coffee now.


	5. Blue Sports Drink of Breakups

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh that’s because I flew in from Nunya.”

Hal landed on the balcony of the Hotel Ventura penthouse in Metropolis with as much grace as you’d expect from a hungover, tired and somehow hungry mess of a person- little to none. Seated on one of the wrought iron seats was Bruce- beautiful, impassive, definitely not going to hold up a 10 for that landing, wearing shades to shield his eyes from the afternoon sun. What time was it now? He’d been zipping all around timezones he hadn’t bothered to check. Sometime around afternoon maybe. His eyes landed on the table in front of Bruce and there was, hallelujah, a cup of coffee, his blue sports drink, a bottle of medicine (probably Advil), and two kinds of sandwiches (probably cold, coming from the well stocked fridge). 

“I could kiss you,” Hal felt cheerful for the first time in the long-ass day, “and maybe later, I will.” He walked up to the table with a wink, almost back to his lovable rakish self again. He reached over for the sports drink and almost finished it off with one gulp. “There’s more of this inside right?” He asked, while wiping his mouth with the back of a hand. Until now, Bruce hadn’t so much as acknowledged him.

“Yes.”

“Cool. That coffee for me as well?”

“No.”

“All right. And what are these sandwiches and are they good for hangovers?”

“I wouldn’t know about hangover sandwiches,” Bruce started, moving his head slightly to look at the table, “but that’s a caprese sandwich with tomato, mozzarella and fresh basil, and the other is a smoked salmon croissant.”

“Ooh, sounds fancy.” And he plops himself down across Bruce. He reached out for either sandwich, really it didn’t matter as long as he got it inside of him. “I was supposed to have a breakfast burrito but these’ll have to do for now.”

“Hn.”

“So, how’d your lunch go?” Hal thought to ask, in between bites. He couldn’t quite make out Bruce’s full facial expression because of the sunglasses, but the twitch at the mouth probably means disgust. So he was a messy eater, what about it? What facet of his life wasn’t a mess?

“It went... well.”

“Oh?”

“Very well in fact.”

“That’s nice.”

“That’s why we have to talk.”

“Oh.” At this point, Hal would’ve put down the sandwich, but he already finished it off. Dainty things, these fancy sandwiches from Bruce. It’s a good thing there’s two of ‘em. Anyway. The talk. Jeez. And here he was starting to feel better. 

“You finally got off your ass and told Clark, huh?”

And for a moment, it seemed that Bruce was slightly surprised. Hal smirked. Serves him right, the bastard. 

“Things... have progressed.”

“Which means our sad little affair has to end. I get it.” And he reached over for the other sandwich. “You want a farewell fuck or what? Last one, for old time’s sake?”

Bruce bristled a bit. He had a special way of needling Bruce, didn’t he? Oh, and once upon a time he more than just needled Bruce too. 

“And you? Why are you here?”

“Oh that’s because I flew in from Nunya.”

“There’s no such place.”

“Nun’ya business!” Hal laughed, but it felt a little bitter. Through the sunglasses, Hal knew Bruce was giving him a look. The other man reached for the coffee and drank in silence as Hal polished off the second sandwich. 

“Im curious though,” Hal broke the silence, because he was the type to be uncomfortable with it (and that’s why space fucking sucks for him, among other things), “what changed? Did all those fancy lunches and dinners and Wayne Foundation galas finally get through to the Big Blue? Oh and those galas, those were something weren’t they. You’d always text me to fly over after every one. Something about seeing your man in a tux maybe?”

Bruce regarded him for some time, and then took off the glasses. Those icy blue eyes looked him in the eyes, dead serious. “I believe I’ve also been to Nunya.”

A beat, and then Hal burst out laughing. Positively guffawed, as Bruce remained impassive. “Really?” Hal managed in between laughs, “You choose now to make a fuckin’ joke?”

“Consider it a farewell gift.”

“Oh man,” Hal wiped at his eyes, “may I tell you, from the bottom of my heart, fuck you. You beautiful, magnificent bastard.”

Bruce gave him a ghost of a smile, and Hal returned it with a toothsome grin. 

“So, no hard feelings?”

“I believe that is the term, yes.”

“Yeah I mean,” He reached for his bottle of sports drink, grimaced a bit to find he’d almost finished it, and took the bottle of Advil instead. “we’re both adults and we both knew what we had wasn’t meant to last.” He popped two pills and followed it with what remained of his drink. Bruce had no reply. Hal shrugged and leaned back.

“So, you mind if I crash here for the rest of the day? I probably need a nap.”

Bruce hesitated.

“Oh for fuck’s sake Spooky, that’s the least you can do for breaking my heart!” Hal whined exaggeratedly, noting with glee how uncomfortable and irritated it made the other man. His heart wasn’t really broken, if he was being honest, As breakups go, this was the best one he’s had over the course of his storied love life. But a breakup is still a breakup. He’ll still feel a little shitty by the end of the day. “You don’t even have to be here. I know the place, we’ve been here a couple of times, remember?”

Bruce scowled, and Hal laughed again. “Oops, sorry, forgot you didn’t like being reminded. Pure as the driven snow is your new M.O., got it.”

“I thought you said no hard feelings.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’m semi-hard.” Hal waggled his eyebrows for effect. It was ineffective. 

Bruce turned to look inside the penthouse and seemed to be calculating something in his head. Then he turned back to look at Hal. 

“You may stay here until this evening.”

Hal punched the air. “Yes!”

“But clean up after yourself.”

“Aw, do I have to? It’s a hotel, they’ve got people to do that stuff!”

Bruce just gave him another look (he’s been wracking up looks this afternoon), and stood up to go inside. Hal hurriedly gathered his garbage and followed suit. He almost dropped them when he walked into Bruce. “Hey, Spooky what’s the hold up?” And then he almost dropped them again when he looked over to where Bruce was staring, and there on the sofa sat a nonchalant Clark. Who gave them a bit of a wave and a sunny smile. 

“I thought I told you to wait in the bedroom.”

“Yeah, you did. But it got boring in there so I thought I’d make myself some coffee.”

Hal gawked at Clark, who still looked unperturbed, and then he turned to Bruce, who looked as if he was ready to murder something. Or fuck? He couldn’t quite tell with Bruce sometimes. 

“Weeell... this just got super awkward.” Hal started, and then made his way around Bruce to get to the kitchen, where he deposited his trash on the counter and then looked into the fridge for some more of his blue sports drink. Gods, he loved that stuff, whatever they were. Belatedly he called out, “Hey there Supes.”

“Hey Hal. How’re you doing?” Clark answers, all polite.

“Oh, you know, could be better. Just got broken up with.”

Clark smiled again. “So I gathered. I’m sorry.”

“Are you really though?” Hal asked, head cocked to one side as he opened a bottle and drank.

Clark laughed, and with full honesty answered “not really.”

“Hm. I kinda gathered that.” Hal wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Say, oh wow. Hey, you and I, we’re eskimo brothers!”

And that was when Bruce almost yelled, “Clark, we are leaving.”

Clark just said ok and then got up to follow a thunderous Bruce out to the hallway leading to the door. Before leaving though, he turned to Hal again and said, affably, “sorry to leave you so soon. Hope it works out with you and Barry!” And then turned and left, just like that. 

What in the holy hell? A couple of minutes later and Hal was still in shock, staring at the already closed door. Did everyone know? Jesus H. Christ on a fuckin’ stick. What a bastard! They deserve each other, those two bastards! Hal went back to the fridge to look for some alcohol. Then he stopped himself and smacked his forehead to remind himself that alcohol got him in this mess in the first place. Well no, answered that fuckin’ voice in his head. Alcohol only helped, what got him in this mess is his own damn self. Great going, conscience, Hal thought sarcastically. He reached for another sports drink instead, and then walked towards the bedroom then stopped. They probably been doing some shit in there before I got here, he thought, and then pivoted towards the couch. He was more comfortable on couches anyway, right? He tried not to think of his sad apartment. Anyway this couch could very well be a bed for a normal, non-billionaire person, he thought as he stretched out on the most comfortable couch imaginable to man. 

Okay, so Bruce said he could stay until the evening, right? So he just had to leave before then, and he reached into his jacket to set an alarm on his phone. Sweet, that gave him a solid three hour nap, which wasn’t really a nap anymore was it? And then after that, where was he supposed to go? Bruce and Clark are probably going to come back to the penthouse, and shit, okay, hand to the fire he gotta admit that’s a little hot. The lizard part of his brain wondered if they’d be down for some three man action, and Hal shook his head as if to physically dislodge that idea. Clark would probably break his neck, all with a smile. That guy, he thought, people think he’s nice and soft but he knows when to show his claws, like that little stunt he pulled earlier. Kind of a jerk move, now that he thought about it, but when Clark does it- in the moment you don’t really think it is? Like being savaged by a really cute kitten? But then you remember the kitten also had laser eyes and the strength of a bajillion men. 

The throbbing in his head had been gone for some time now, between the painkillers and the recent events distracting him. That meant he can go to sleep now. Hal turned to a more comfortable position, and yawned. He’d been running on fumes, and despite downing bottles of sugary sports drink and two fancy sandwiches, now that he thought about sleep it came to him in an instant. The last thought he had before completely fading away was, ‘I wonder where Barry is right now?’


	6. Chicken Dinner for Winners part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Placemats? Where am I, the Waldorf Astoria?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter just ran away from me and got so long so cutting it up into two seemed like a good idea.

Barry had been to the big box megastore near Hal’s apartment. It had taken him two trips. And although he wasn’t anywhere even near 100 meters of Bruce Wayne level comfortable, he still had enough money in the bank to buy Hal some essentials- well, several more essentials other than toilet paper it seemed. He had no idea his best friend lived like that. If not for the fact that he had an apartment Hal lived like he was some kind of drifter. And, if you think about it, between the league and the corps, and squeezing in time to be Carol’s test pilot, of course he was a kind of drifter. He barely had any time to himself. And yet, without fail, he would always be there for Barry’s stupid love problems. Always a shoulder to lean on, whenever he was Earth-side. Barry paused in between placing bottles of sugary sports drinks (the blue ones that Hal liked) in the fridge. He was sure he was having some kind of epiphany, he thought. But. Hal was his best friend. Who also happened to be bisexual. And. Well. He’s never really thought of himself that way. Until last night, that is. He groaned. Last night. Jesus. Remind him to never let Hal drink again. He resumed stocking the fridge with the groceries he got on his second run, thankful he didn’t get any beer. 

Last night was eye-opening to say the least. In addition to not knowing his friend lived like this, he hadn’t known about...well, about that. Hal being in love with him. ‘For several fuckin’ years now Bar-Bear’, Hal had said in a drunken almost-rant. And then the kiss. Oh that kiss. Probably one of the worst in history. Just... so drunken and sloppy. But. After that, it was all that Barry could think of as he laid awake in bed with Hal out there on his couch snoring. He hadn’t been able to sleep, even when he went for a speedster run to tire himself out. He loved Hal, of course. He was his best friend after all. But... did he love him as more than a friend? 

God, Barry thought, and he put his head inside the fridge as if the cold would help him dispel the thoughts. He had to do something, anything. Oh, maybe he could deep clean Hal’s apartment? And then... oh was there a nearby Ikea he could get some furniture from? Probably a proper bed for starters? Ah but does he still have the budget for that? He couldn’t very well bankrupt himself given his dietary needs. But okay, maybe some bedsheets for that pull-out couch? And some pillows? And oh damn he forgot to get hand towels and placemats the first time he went to the store to get some kitchen essentials so he could cook some food. Ah, time for a third store visit!

He knew he was distracting himself, but then what else was he supposed to do? Just sit with his feelings in the dark in Hal’s sad apartment like some kind of idiot? No way, he’d rather be going up and down the aisles looking for thyme and rosemary, which he totally forgot to get, my God Barry what is up with you and your selective memory. You remember the tiniest details of last night like how Hal’s lips were chapped but still kind of soft, but you forget to get thyme and rosemary? Right, off to the store definitely, Barry thought resolutely, and headed out the door. 

*

It was some time around eight-ish when Hal finally got around to Coast City. The hangover was gone, thankfully, with the help of medicine, food, hydration and a good long-ass nap. By the time he was about to launch into the air the penthouse door opened and he even got to say goodbye to a frowning Bruce and a cheery Clark. He wished those crazy kids well, and meant it. Even if he felt a small pang at the thought of no longer getting to enjoy the creature comforts of various Wayne owned penthouses across the world. Ah, c’est la vie, as they say. Maybe he could still drop in from time to time? Hal grinned maniacally. And wouldn’t that be a trip. He wondered if Clark would treat him any differently from now on. Probably not. Probably didn’t even see him as competition. Oh, he flexed a bit earlier in the day, but that’s as much as he’d get. Probably. Hopefully. Either way, he’d see how far he can push his luck. 

He touched down in an abandoned alley near his apartment building and de-powered. By the time he got to the hallway leading to his apartment, he was whistling an aimless tune. He felt a bit better now. Well, he still thinks he’s a piece of shit for what he’d done to Barry last night and a little hurt for being discarded in favor of Superman (just a little bit, let’s be honest, that’s Superman he’s competing against). He’d been a bit distracted and only noticed the light inside the apartment as he had already opened the door. The smell of good food quickly enveloped him- and he looked to the kitchen at his right to see Barry, back turned to him, shallow frying something delicious over what looked like a new cast iron skillet. It certainly was new, thought Hal, I never in my life owned one. 

He had a decision to make. Either Barry was too engrossed with cooking to notice him, or was letting him make the choice to be there. He could still turn around and fly away again, like a demented Peter Pan. But to where? He had no more Neverland to take refuge in. He unconsciously tightened his grip on the doorknob. Right, now or never. He squared his jaw and knocked on the already open door. This got Barry’s attention, finally, and he turned around to see Hal still standing one foot in and the other out. 

“Hey.”

Barry smiled, and something inside Hal melted a bit. “Hey yourself.”

“That for me?”

“Eh, mostly its for me, but sure you can have some.” Was the cheeky reply.

Hal found himself smiling back. “Cool.” Was all he managed to say, before he fully entered his own apartment and locked the door behind him. Turning back towards the kitchen, he asked Barry if he needed any help.

“You know how to mash potatoes?”

Hal rolled his eyes and ‘pfft’ed. “I know of mashing. I just don’t know what else is needed to be done to the potatoes.”

Barry laughed and directed Hal to his phone on a small stand that he definitely did not own as well, on the breakfast counter in front of the stove. “There, that’s the recipe I’m using. All the ingredients are prepped, you just need to follow it. Think you can manage, Harold?”

“Think I can manage mashing potatoes? I’ll have you know, Bartholomew, that I manage a whole-ass sector of space and fly some cutting edge marvel of engineering, so yeah, I think I can. As long as you taste it afterwards and tell me where it went wrong.”

Barry laughed again, and Hal joined him. The laughter stopped and they smiled at each other. Barry nudged him in the shoulder to indicate he should start as the man monitored the pieces of chicken he was frying. And they worked in companionable silence like that, and for a while Hal was at peace and was not itching to fill the void with endless chatter. What would he say? Hey, guess what, Spooky and Big Blue are totally doing it right now? Ask me how I know! Or hey, remember last night? I sure wish I didn’t, but let’s dissect it, shall we? 

Soon enough Hal was finished with the potatoes and Barry had already started on the gravy. Something else was filling the kitchen with its wonderful scent, and Hal was moved to ask. Barry gestured towards the oven, where some biscuits were baking.

“Christ.” Hal marveled. “Are you some kind of secret Martha Stewart?”

Barry blushed lightly and ducked his head, just like he did whenever he received a compliment. 

“It’s from a box. It’s nothing special.”

“Are you kidding me, Bar? You know how fancy instant ramen is to me?”

Barry laughed again, and Hal reveled in the sound. He loved hearing Barry laugh. He loved knowing he can make the other man happy, for a fleeting moment, enough to laugh out loud. 

“How about you go set the table while I finish up here? Also get the iced tea in the fridge. We’re going all out tonight, my friend.”

“Set it.. what with?”

“Look in that cupboard. Bought you some essentials so you don’t live like a goddamn savage.”

Hal looked, and there were plates. Not paper ones either. He pulled open a shelf and there arranged on those little divider things were honest to god cutlery. Not fancy ones, like in the penthouses, but serviceable. And not plastic. A gnawing feeling in his chest started. 

“Bar... you didn’t have to...”

“Less talking, more moving from you.” Barry commands him but in a good natured way. 

Hal stared at the back of Barry’s head for a moment, as the other man happily stirred a small pot (again, all new. When did he ever need a pot, a small one that seemed specifically for sauces at that? Never, that’s when). He didn’t deserve this. He was a shitty friend who hits on his best friend while drunk and he didn’t deserve any of this kindness. But, maybe that conversation could wait. He couldn’t very well ruin this dinner- Barry looked to have expended a lot of his time, energy and money and he couldn’t open his stupid mouth and ruin it with his stupid feelings. And so, he did as he was told. He set up the folding table he got for cheap at the big box megastore nearby. He noticed there were cushions now on the accompanying folding chairs. 

“Oh, don’t forget the placemats. They’re in a shelf near the one with the cutleries.” Barry called out distractedly.

“Placemats? Where am I, the Waldorf Astoria?” 

“I told you, no more savage Hal.”

He went back into the kitchen to retrieve the said placemats. “You want me to fetch the cloth napkins and fold them into orchids?”

“Step by step Hal. For now, placemats.”

He goes back to the kitchen and starts carrying out the entrees that were in serving dishes and not in the pans used to cook them, and holy hell what is happening right now. Is this what being Bruce is like, 24/7? Eventually all the food got placed on the table, and Barry seated himself on the only other chair in the room, which was across Hal. He beamed, actually beamed at Hal, and then gestured at the food. 

“Dig in!”

“Okay but you gotta tell me how much I need to reimburse you...”

“Oh my god Hal just eat. We can do the accounting later.”

And eat they did. There were more than enough for two people, but Barry was eating for three, what with his metabolism. All in all, it was an enjoyable meal, thought Hal, as he wiped his mouth on a paper napkin. Dare he say, the best chicken dinner he’d had in a long while? Definitely the best home cooked dinner he’s ever had. And just sitting there, shooting the shit with his best friend after a great meal, Barry’s laughter at one of his stupid jokes washing over him, his apartment looking the best its ever been since he started renting it (was it the lighting? Because there’s actually sources of light now, like those lamps in the corners of the room). The mood was just so good he couldn’t stop himself, wasn’t aware it was happening until his ears caught up with what his mouth was saying midway.

“Hey. I love you.”


	7. Chicken Dinner for Winners part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And, suddenly, a light at the end of the tunnel Hal’s been trapped in for such a long ass time.

Barry just looked at him for a while, face softened by good food and humor, and the magical additional lighting. And then he smiled, sincerely, and said softly,

“I know bud.”

Hal leaned back. For a terrifying moment, when mouth connected to ear then to brain, he felt his muscles tense up as his body prepared to take flight again. But he willed himself to sit still. And then, to here that reply. It wasn’t an I love you too, clearly, but it wasn’t a fuck you either. He felt the tension in his body loosen somewhat.

“You trying to Han Solo me or something?”

Barry’s smile widened into a grin. “You know, between the two of us, I’d have pegged you more the Han Solo type.”

“Oh? Is it because I’m rakishly handsome? Dangerously alluring?”

“Hmm... it’s because you have a tendency to shoot first and be a jerk.”

“Oh! Oh ho. Well, in the revised versions...”

“Don’t even bring up that shit.”

This time it was Hal who laughed. “Didn’t know you had very strong opinions about that, bud.”

Barry shook his head and helped himself to some more iced tea. “Don’t even start.”

Hal scratched at his cheek absentmindedly, “so what can we talk about instead?”

Barry just drank his tea in response.

“Are... are we ready to talk about last night?”

“I dunno. Are you going to jump out a window and fly away from the conversation again?”

“Hey, you know I never did it a third time, and according to comedy, there’s a rule of three...”

“Don’t you even dare, Harold.”

“After today, I wouldn’t, Bartholomew.”

They stared at each other, the two friends. Neither one knew how to start the conversation, but both new they had to do it. Barry put down his glass. “Listen... last night was a surprise.”

Relief poured into Hal as he saw an opening to profusely apologize for his shitty behavior. “I know. I know! I’m such a shit stain of a person. I mean who does that? Who actually does that and then jump out two windows just to avoid talking about their shitty behavior?”

Barry held up a hand to signal for Hal to stop talking. He had a habit of beating himself up, he knows, and sometimes it takes for Barry to intercede so the negative thoughts could stop. 

“I... well I’ve had more than enough time today to think about things. And I’m not excusing you, but I do understand you. Where it came from. If its true, that you’ve been holding it in for so long, I’m surprised it took you until last night to come clean.”

“Strong will, its my superpower, remember?” Hal offered feebly. Barry shrugged. 

“It must have been so frustrating, keeping that to yourself while listening to me whine about my love problems for years.”

It was Hal’s turn to shrug. “Well, I knew you were straight. You’ve made it clear. It was my fault for falling for a straight. That shit never turns out well.” And ain’t that the truth, added Hal in his mind. 

“Um... well.”

And, suddenly, a light at the end of the tunnel Hal’s been trapped in for such a long ass time. 

“I understand the Kinsey scale... and I’ve never really outright said I was 100% straight.”

Hal willed his breath to stay even, willed every single muscle in his body to still. The light was getting brighter.

“It’s not hard to find attraction when you’ve got perfect human specimens walking and flying all around you all the time. And, well, sometimes it doesn’t matter about the gender. Attraction is attraction, you know?”

Hal involuntarily squinted, the light was not only becoming brighter but getting bigger as well, as if it was coming near him. Or was he coming closer to end of the tunnel?

Barry let out a self deprecating laugh. “Jeez, listen to me explain this to you. You’re bi, you know all about this already! I guess... well I guess I’ve never really thought about it. I mean really given myself time to look deeper into it. For so long, I was only looking towards Iris you know. And that year and a half we were together, they were perfect. Until it wasn’t. To be honest, last month’s breakup shouldn’t have been that surprising.” Here Barry paused to refill his glass with iced tea. Hal bit his tongue for fear of interrupting with something stupid or blithe. Barry went on, looking at his glass instead of Hal. “But you were there for me. Every step. I bet you even took out some leave days from the corps. And then I see your apartment and Jesus Hal is this the way you actually live? But instead of spending time to take care of yourself, you spend it with me, with my whining? No wonder you broke down by the end.”

“Bar...”

“No. You keep saying you’re a shitty friend. So maybe last night was a little bit of crossing a line. But so am I. I didn’t even notice how you felt. Didn’t even know you’ve been living like this! How self-absorbed am I? So... you’ve apologized, and I accept it, full stop. But, let me apologize too. Hal, I’m sorry. I was insensitive. I promise I’d do better by you.”

Hal couldn’t help it. He gestured widely at his apartment. “I think you’ve more than made up for that. Jesus, Bar, is this how you work through your problems? Because lemme tell you, I definitely need an actual bed. With one of those fancy memory foam mattresses. You think you still got some remorse left in you for that?”

Barry laughed, and Hal instantly felt better. “I still feel bad yes but I don’t think I have the money left for that. I’m not actually Bruce Wayne you know.”

Hal couldn’t stop the wince, and Barry noticed. “What, why did I say something wrong?”

“Er... mmm... nothing.”

“Something to do with your casual hookups with Bruce?” Barry asked, a little too innocently.

Hal couldn’t help but stare at Barry bug-eyed. “What... how...”

“You may have said more than you should’ve last night.”

Hal scrubs his face with a hand. “What in the holy hell have I been saying last night.”

“Oh don’t worry, none of the specifics, but enough for me to get that the two of you have some sort of arrangement? Something “purely physical”, to paraphrase you.”

“What did I actually say?”

“I hesitate to gossip about our actual friends,” Barry started with a meaningful look to Hal, “but I believe you said ‘we fuck each others brains’ out when we need to let off steam’. Is what you said.”

Hal leaned back and let his head fall back and stared at the ceiling. Curious, he thought, did he always have that ceiling fan and light combo? Probably. 

“So,” Barry’s voice was quiet, “was it just physical?”

“Huh?” Hal broke from his momentary stupor. He didn’t stop staring at the ceiling though. “Yeah. He, well, we broke it off earlier, if that’s important.”

“Oh.” And the oh was so quiet, Hal almost missed it. He looked back at Barry, who was studying his glass with intensity. 

“Is it important, Bar?”

“Well, I...” Barry started to color. It fascinated Hal, and he stared without shame. Barry closed his eyes and kept them closed as he said, “maybe... well. Actually yes. It is.”

Again, Hal’s body was moving on its own, as if on instinct, and he was halfway through the gesture before his brain caught up. His had reached out and tentatively cupped Barry’s face, and it caused the other man to open his eyes in surprise. “Hey.” Hal said softly. “Do you want to tell me why?”

Barry looked unsure, and bit his lip. On his end, Hal had to clutch at his leg underneath the table. “I... didn’t want to be... I didn’t want to infringe on a relationship. I don’t want to be the other man, you know? God what am I even saying?”

“Hey, hey, it’s ok. This is a safe space.” Here, Barry rolled his eyes a bit, and Hal grinned back. “I mean you can tell me whatever you want. I can take it.”

Barry took a deep breath, and then, to Hal’s infinite surprise, leaned into the hand cupping his face. He covered Hal’s hand with his own, and muttered into the palm of Hal’s hand. “I... dunno how to do this Hal. And I’m afraid. I don’t want to pursue something that will make me lose my best friend.”

“Why do you say that?”

“What if I fuck it up? I don’t actually have the best track record...”

“Oh, you mean your one real relationship? Please. I have a worse track record than you.”

Barry frowned and pulled down Hal’s hand and placed it on the table between them. “That’s not exactly encouraging.”

“I know, I know,” Hal started sheepishly. “I heard it soon as I said it. But what I mean is, you can’t run ahead of these things you know. It takes two to make a relationship work. Maybe its you who fucks up, maybe its me. Maybe its no one and we get to have a happily ever after, whatever that is.”

Hal noted that Barry’s hand was still on his own, and took it as a sign that he wasn’t fucking things up thoroughly. 

“Listen, Bar. I can’t promise you we won’t have bad days. But. Well think of it this way. We’re already best friends. It’s just like that, only we get to do some more fun stuff on top of that. And we get to be honest.” He’s really taking a leap of faith here, in all his past relationships, Hal had never been the one to promise honesty. 

“That’s part of what I’m kinda afraid of.”

“What, the honesty?” Hal asked, confused.

“No... the other stuff. The fun stuff you implied.” Here, Barry blushed again. Truly, thought Hal, if ever a night was to make true the moniker ‘scarlet’ speedster, it’s tonight. “Like I said, I’ve only had attraction, maybe at a very surface level at that, so I don’t know...”

“Bar. Bear. It’s ok.” Hal waggled his eyebrows. “I promise to teach you to the best of my abilities.”

Barry pulled away and Hal laughingly reached out and held his hand again, this time with both hands. “You can’t be embarrassed by something as light as that if you’re going to be with me Bar.”  
“Ugh. I know. I’m really starting to regret it.”

“Oh yeah? I know how to make you not regret it.”

Barry gulped. He actually gulped and Hal had to hold in a guffaw. Oh man, it’s going to be so much fun getting Barry to fall apart in his hands. “Tell you what, why don’t we start with kissing first, and then we’ll see where that takes us?”

A shy smile, and then a nod. Hal’s heart soared, and he reached over, cupped Barry’s face once more and pulled the other man to meet him halfway for the softest kiss he’s ever experienced. Close mouthed, almost just a brushing of lips. But it felt electric, and they both felt it, he knew. 

“How’s that?” Hal asked softly.

“So much better than last night.” Barry answered, eyes still closed, but with a hint of laughter in his voice. Hal couldn’t help but kiss him again. And again. And Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is, effectively, the end. Last chapter is an epilogue.


	8. A Food-Free Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it. He’s done. Turn off the timer and take him out of the oven because he’s done.

Bruce collapsed on the bed, face first. It felt like every bone in his body was liquid. There was nothing in his mind, no worry or care, and it was pure bliss. In all his wildest imaginations, he hadn’t thought that Clark would be so... dominating and relentless and just this side of cocky. They had a heavy make-out session at Clark’s apartment, where they went after Hal so rudely interrupted at the penthouse and they had to leave. And because it was Bruce, they spent an equal portion of the time just talking and planning about, well, what a relationship between the two of them would be, and how it would fit in their very busy schedules, and how it would affect dynamics in the league. Clark pointed out that Bruce’s hookups with Hal didn’t seem to affect it that much, and Bruce gave him a death glare he just ignored with a laugh. In fact, it didn’t seem to bother Clark so much. He just let Bruce talk and then just shrugged it all off, and asked him to dinner. 

Coming back to the penthouse, just in time to say goodbye to an already leaving Hal, it seemed like something took over Clark as he turned and said, “where were we?” And then he pinned Bruce on the same wall he had earlier. Did the same grinding motion that drove Bruce to almost madness. Then he picked Bruce up and flew them into the bedroom, where Bruce was promptly deposited onto the bed. And that’s where Bruce found out the nuances of Kryptonian physiology. The size, for one (a bit overwhelming at first), the orgasms (multiple), the amount of cum they can produce (a lot), and their endurance (seemingly endless). It was by the third round that Bruce became completely knackered, in only the way a good fuck can, eyes rolled to the back of his head, panting, and truly blissed out. 

Clark rolled to the other side of the bed and laid on his side to face Bruce, whose brain still was not online. 

“I can go again in a few?” Clark suggested, but it was more of a joke than an actual offer. 

“You better mean hours.”

Clark laughed, “no. A few seconds.”

“Oh my god.”

“Nah, Clark’s just fine.”

And that stupid joke was what got Bruce back into the land of the living. He shot Clark a quick glare, who only laughed again in response. 

“I wanted this.” Bruce murmured, more to himself as if to remind and convince, but Clark still answered him with a hearty “yup.”

“Hey,” Clark said softly, “you should get yourself in a better position if you’re gonna sleep.” Clark reached out and pulled him close and wrapped an arm around him. 

“Hmm?” Bruce hadn’t noticed his eyes were drifting close. “I... should text Hal, made sure...”

Clark shushed him, then closed his eyes and concentrated for a beat. Afterwards, he opened them and smiled brightly. 

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about him.”

*

“So.” Hal started, turning to his side and propping up his head with a hand. “How was it for you?”

Barry smiled and continued to stare at the ceiling. “Amazing.” They had moved from the table to the pull-out couch, and Hal noted it now had four pillows, bed sheets and a blanket. They kept kissing and eventually light petting, Hal nibbling a mark on Barry’s neck while the other made noises that went straight to Hal’s groin. But as he made to take off Barry’s shirt, he was met with a refusal. He didn’t really mind that much (okay maybe a little but he’s willing to wait this time), and so they just resumed kissing, with Hal now and then nuzzling at Barry’s face and whispering sweet nothings. And when they finally parted, both stared at the ceiling for a bit, Hal with a triumphant grin and Barry looking a bit dazed. 

Hal chuckled. “Oh, if you thought that was amazing, wait ‘till I get you naked.” On cue, Barry blushed. God, this might just be his new favorite thing- making Barry blush. “You know we’re going to, at some point.”

“Yeah, but... I like this pace. Just take things slow.”

“Said the scarlet speedster.” This made Barry turn his head towards Hal so he could roll his eyes at him, and Hal chuckled again. “All right, just yankin’ your chain. I’m more than happy to take it slow with you Bar. After all, I’m your first guy.”

“Okay, you don’t have to be so smug about it.”

“I can’t help it Bar-bear, been waiting for this for what seems like eternity.”

Barry turns on his side to face Hal, and there was still a little of the starry look in his eyes left from the softest make-out session in history. 

“You sure you can take it slow?” There was a hint of hesitation in Barry’s voice. 

“Sure. Of course. Watch me sleep on this couch with you and not do anything, hand to God. Just us two bros on a pullout couch, inches from each other, not touching ‘coz we’re not that gay yet.”

Barry burst out laughing, and Hal joined in. “God I can’t believe you’re referencing a meme right now.”

“What meme? Bar, I ain’t on this planet half the goddamn time.”

“What? Oh man I gotta show you some stuff next time.”

Still laughing a bit, Barry looked at Hal again. “You know, us being two bros on a pullout couch...”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not averse to being bros cuddling on a pullout couch.”

God. He was in love with the softest boy in the world. And he loves it. Loves that Barry could be this open, this uncomplicated. He felt like he just won the lottery. Hal smiled sincerely. 

“C’mere and let me hold you, bear.”

Barry grinned as he covered the small space between them, kissed Hal on the chin and burrowed his face in the crook of Hal’s neck. Oh boy, Hal thought. This is it. He’s done. Turn off the timer and take him out of the oven because he’s done. No more hookups, no more flirting, no more whatever on this here galaxy or wherever. Because this is it. He buried his face into Barry’s hair, and pulled the other man even closer. And in that space, they drifted off to sleep, finally content, finally with one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The meme: https://youtu.be/EwAajOtfNT8
> 
> Or just google “two bros chillin in the hot tub”
> 
> Thank you all for reading and for the kudos and comments!


End file.
